


On The Nature Of Daylight

by SiryyGray



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: A hella dysfunctional family, Angst, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dick Grayson & everyone - Freeform, Feels, Juvie sucks, Nightmares, TURN THAT UP!!!, Team is a Family, frienship, how does tagging work im new, kids can be cruel when they need an outlet, not an excuse just an explanation, talking shit out is my JAM, they’re trying, this was just a self indulgent recovery fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 21:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiryyGray/pseuds/SiryyGray
Summary: Nightmares suck, especially when you see one that isn’t yours.One-shot





	On The Nature Of Daylight

There was a stomach-tuning crack ringing through the little box-shaped room, followed by laughing.

A boy, a young boy with dark hair and sharp features, was being held down and mocked.

There was a bed- no, a cot. A metal cot with threadbare sheets and a sunken in frame pushed against one wall, there were three others like it lined up like soldiers standing at attention, marching along the plaster of the dimly light room. Three of them were empty, the bedding rumpled by quick movements and left in disarray.

Another crack.

The boy tried to yelp, but was silenced by a hand covering his mouth. A hand which soon had bloodied teeth marks sunken into the palm. The boy was rewarded with an elbow to the mouth, and a small victory.

Those three beds belonged to the three other boys currently surrounding the kid with the black hair.

He was being forced to kneel at the side of the bed, his legs pinned by the weight of a brown eyed boy.

His left hand was held back by the wrist, encircled in the grasp of the one pressing his knees into the child’s calves. A smirk ghosted over the brown eyed kids features as he shoved his weight in a little harder, and pulled up on the boys arm with more force, threatening to pop it out of place.

One was crouched on the other side of the cot, stretching the boys free arm across the surface, making his chest dig into the bed-frame as it was pushed onto the lumpy cot. With one hand, he was squeezing the boys forearm hard enough to bruise, holding his ring finger in the other.

The last was one with bright blond hair. He was grinning as he twisted a fist into the boys hair, wrenching his head upwards to watch as his hand was mutilated.

They laughed. And laughed and _laughed_  and then they started talking.

“You think you’re gonna get out of here? Huh?” Sneered the apparent leader, the one hunched on the opposite side of the cot.

As though coals were burning their tongues, they spat words made of fire.

“You think since you didn’t do anything you’ll get out?” He bent the boys finger back. Straight back. The joint visibly ground against his skin, the sound of a snapping bone echoed in concert with the blood seeping down onto the pale blankets, staining it crimson.

The boy had the taste of copper flooding his mouth, teeth clamped down _hard_  on the soft part of of his cheek to keep the agony inaudible.

“You’re suck in this hellhole. No privileges for rats ‘round here.” The grin plastered over the blond boys lips grew as he leaned down.

“Better learn quick brat.” His head was shoved down into the mattress muffling his shouts of pain as the space on his thumb between his knuckle and first joint was dug into by hard nails until...

Crack.

He kicked desperately, bare feet scraping against the concrete as his anger waned into pain and fear.

The three jeered.

“Can’t even handle the initiation. He’ll make a terrible punching bag.”

The boy thrashed and tried to scream curses at them, his hair stuck to his face from the sweat trickling from his brow.

His legs grazed against the floor, writhing in what little give the one keeping his down allowed.

They thought it was funny, to see his struggle.

They thought it was entertaining.

Even as he growled retaliatory promises the grip in his hair tightened, disturbingly large chunks were being torn out and tangled into the older boys hand.

Bits of cartilage splintered as his little finger was twisted.

Again, he tried to yell.

A sharp yank on his head followed by a vicious backhand was delivered to silence him.

There was more popping, more cracking as the one breaking the child’s fingers curled his hand around all five, and squeezing hard till blood was running down his forearm and the blond boy had to push most of his weight onto the boys head and neck in order to keep his cries from traveling outside of their room.

“Gimme his left.” The ‘leader’ ordered, flicking away the bone and skin he’d just finished wrecking.

Bright blue eyes widened, gleaming with fear and unbridled anger waiting to spill past his lips contrasting the cheeks already slick with the blood smeared across a bruised jaw from his busted-looking lip.

Before a new barrage of insults could start something hard slammed into his temple, dazing him into submission.

His left hand was being yanked forward, the other traded to be held against his back tightly. Painfully.

There was a harsh whisper in his ear, “Really, kid.”

Crack.

“You’re just as much street trash as the rest of us.”

A dulled cry.

“You’re not even a citizen.”

Snap.

“Consider yourself lucky to be here.”

A sharp slap.

“You listening?”

His middle finger is black and blue.

“Pay attention brat.”

Eventually, after his bones are reduced to shards and his feet blistered by the abuse, they leave.

The three boys hunched their shoulders and wiped the blood away on the boys sheets. They leave, but not before one decides that the eight year old- whose form is trembling so violently his cot quivered in time and has curled in on himself, both arms cradled to his chest as he spat blood and silent swears- is in need of one more hit because damn he’d been suppressing that rage for a while.

One more hit.

 

________________________________

 

 

It was a little past three when five teens filtered into the lounge of Mount Justice. One after the other, they came in looking either far too pale or deeply troubled. Or both.

They had been on a mission only three hours earlier. A simple surveillance task at a detention centre a few miles away from a prison holding some powerful people.

Their task had been to ensure no one in the centre was leaving, or communicating with anyone from the adult prison, as there had been rumours of the juvenile hall attempting a riot.

A distraction.

Simply, the team had been there to observe. To keep the perimeter secure and comb over footage for any loose ends. It had gone smoothly but unfortunately lasted til around one am. No one had the energy to go home, hell they barely made it to their beds before passing out.

But now, after just a few short hours of rest, they were up and god knows they aren’t going back to sleep anytime soon.

M’gann had her legs hugged close with bloodshot eyes peaking out from behind them, Connor beside her looking confused and hurt.

Kaldur sat cross legged, running a thumb over the length of his kneecap in a repetitive, soothing manner. Wally stood behind the couch across from where M’gann sat, his hands braced on the back as her stared down, mouth pressed into a hard line.

Her hair was a mess, and the shake in her hand was apparently as Artemis clutched a pillow to her chest, burying her face up to her nose in the plush fabric to cover how difficult it was becoming for her to swallow back the bile rising in her throat.

It was quite.

So quite.

_Crack. Pay attention brat._

Artemis’ eyes traced around the room, taking in all the details of her, frankly, shaken teammates.

“You all saw that, right?” She asked hesitantly, bringing her head up so the pillow didn’t block out her voice.

Her voice that was sounding way too small and somber.

Connor drew in a harsh breath, “What the _hell_ was that.”

They’d never heard him sound so genuinely distraught.

Connor normally had a voice like a fuse, speaking in explosions.

But not now.

His words may have been intended to come out as forceful, but they played in a way reminiscent of a child asking their parents to keep the lights on at night.

The boy of steel was scared.

M’gann glanced up, “I think,” she bit down on her lip for a moment when a few pairs of eyes turned to her, almost choking as the words came tumbling out, “I think it was the remains of the mental link. We’d been using it all night... they can linger sometimes.”

An inaudible chorus of nods dipped through their heads.

“But... where did that come from? I-...” Connor looked down at his hands, flexing them experimentally with wide, frustrated eyes. “I’ve never felt so helpless before.”

A crackle on Connor’s voice tapped into the trance Kaldur had put himself in, breaking it open just enough for him to speak and his dark skin grew beaded with sweat; his whole body was twitching.

“We... we should go back to sleep.”

“Kal you’ve gotta be kidding.” Artemis looked around the room, her eyes lingering on Wally for a second longer. The redheads knuckles were turning white with how hard he was gripping the couch, looking almost equal in strength to the unbalanced, uncomfortable expression he wore.

Her eyes flickered back to Kaldur. “After that? I don’t want to sleep.”

A soft “Ditto.” Came from M’gann, followed by Connor nodding stiffly.

Stillness seeped back into the room, turning the air into something far too thick and their eyes hazed over.

Each word was kicking up dust and now the room was too clouded with questions and hesitation that no one could dig in their heels one last time.

Understanding was dawning as a dirty feeling settled over them.

It was so deathly silent except for...

_Snap._

It reverberated inside their heads. M’gann chewed her lip while Connor ground his teeth together, eyes screwed shut tightly.

Kaldur had his head in his head, heart picking up with every flash that came from that persistent nightmare that definitely didn’t belong to him, nor anyone in the room.

Wally didn’t move. Or speak. It didn’t seem like he was breathing.

“What we saw,” Kaldur muttered, “it wasn’t just a dream, was it.”

It wasn’t a question.

They all knew it wasn’t a figment of one of their imaginations.

“A memory.” Breathed M’gann.

The tension and discomfort in the room was palpable; suffocating.

Artemis’ hands kept shivering in time with M’gann’s breaths coming in gasps. It was unspoken but known, just who that memory came from.

Who else could it have been?

“That kid,” Artemis started with a tremor in her tone, “it was-“

“Shut up.”

Four heads snapped to Wally in surprise. The growl he’d just spat was so out of character it sent them mentally reeling.

“Wally-“

“Shut up!” He shouted, whipping his head towards Artemis. Stained onto his cheeks was bright fury pressing creases into his eyebrows.

His knees were ready to give out, the only thing holding him up was the vice-like grip he had on the back of the sofa.

“Don’t say it.” He ground out, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was shocking how quick the anger in her stomach boiled up. Artemis shot to her feet, glowering at Wally with something hot stinging her eyes.

“Don’t say what, Wally? Don’t say what?!”

Anger rolled off her in waves, hitting everyone in the room with the force of a earthquake as flames burned in her throat, reaching up to her eyes were they had grown damp.

“Just don’t. We weren’t supposed to see that.”

Artemis was seething, ready to retaliate but pulled back at the cool hand on her shoulder.

“Wally, this cannot be ignored.” Kaldur told him, tensing with each syllable.

“Yes it can.”

M’gann untangled her limbs slowly, unable to make eye contact with the speedster as though every movement took her absolute concentration.

“Did you know?”

Wally raked a hand through his hair,

“Meg-“

“Did you know?” She repeated, louder this time, with a face devoid of her typical warmth.

“Does it matter?” His jaw was clenched so tightly the sound of bone of bone made them all flinch.

“I just... damnit. I don’t want it to be real. It’s none of our business anyways.”

Connor glared, rising dangerously fast from his seat as the confusion turned to disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? He’s our teammate. Our friend. It’s our damn business.”

His tone was so calm it was terrifying; a mountain of anger hidden behind a thin veil of put-togetherness.

The speedster shrank back, twisting his knuckles hard into the cushions followed by a hard glare, “He didn’t tell us, you know, it was a fluke and probably something he wants to forget so just leave it.”

The resident archer scowled, “That’s not any justification and you know it. What we saw... what they did...”

“It’s personal alright!”

Wally cried, “He doesn’t need to explain himself to us and he certainly doesn’t need to know we saw that crap!”

As her nails cut crescents into her palms, Artemis deflated, tangling a hand into her hairline with a strangled gasp, “This is so messed up.” She stumbled backwards, falling onto her place on the couch looking exhausted.

“This is so messed up.”

“What is?”

They all froze at the sound of a confused, slightly drowsy voice.

One... two... three...

As shock wore off, five heads turned to find a baffled Robin standing at the threshold.

Glasses askew in tandem with his dishevelled hair and clothes, he looked around the room cautiously.

“Why’re you all up..?”

They’re movement, or rather lack of, is what gave it away.

Body language was the first he learned, and still one is mind was fluent in.

He sees Kaldur blink rapidly, and he sees the quiver of Connor’s shoulders as he tried to stay still.

The stiffness of Wally’s stance, the red rimming M’gann’s eyes, the twitch of Artemis’ fingers and lips.

_Something’s wrong._

“Woah, are you guys okay?”

He took a few step forward, moving towards the collection of anxious teens.

Robin tugged at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, his eyes searching those of his teammates behind the dark glass.

The ridged nothingness continued, like unease has waltzed into the room and spread itself so thick that breathing became an issue for the five who were struggling to stay still.

Robin stepped back frowning.

“Did something happen? C’mon... guys, say something.”

He was growing more blatantly concerned and skittish, looking over his friends again trying desperately to catch someone’s eye.

Keeping her sight trained downward Artemis stood and marched over the Robin. Her steps sounded like land mines in the somber stillness, each bringing variations of clenched fists or worried looks to those still fastened in place by a glue named hesitation.

Without warning her hand shot out, circling Robin’s wrist with her fingers, pushing his sleeves up to his forearm.

He didn’t pull away, just watched as her eyes roamed feverishly over the marred skin. Her thumb ran over almost invisible scar wrapped around his little finger.

“Oh.”

He patiently waited as Artemis loosened her grip, calmly pulling the gray material of his sweater back down over his knuckles.

He smiled sadly, inhaling slowly.

“So you all saw that, huh.”

Exhale.

In that split second all the built up paranoia and worry was brushed aside.

They nodded.

Robin’s head turns, his eyes presumably combing over each of them with pinpoint precision, one that had long since cataloged all their tics and mannerism and was probably reading them like a book.

“Stop that.”

He said pointedly, “The pity looks, all of you. Seriously, relax.”

And they did, somehow.

Kaldur’s posture fell, crashing his back against a wall of couch cushions, M’gann let out a breath she hadn’t know she was holding.

Though worry still coloured her features, Artemis back-pedalled a few paces giving the boy wonder room to actually move.

Wally slid down against the side of the sofa, cupping his chin in his hands with elbow resting on his knees.

Connor, however, stayed.

Instead of mimicking the relief that was evident in the rest of them, he seemed to fume.

“They broke your fingers.” He said in that same too-calm voice.

“They did.”

“They broke your fingers!”

He roared.

They started wide-eyed at his outburst, taking steps back or scrambling out of the way as he stormed over to Robin.

Strong hands curled into Robin’s collar, pulling his forward enough that Connor could look him in the eye, so to speak.

He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off.

“Gotta say Supes, the white knight complex isn’t a good look for you.”

Robin tore the teens hands away in quick fluid motion, the switch in demeanour gave off a harsh mental whiplash.

“Cool it.”

“Robin,” M’gann began carefully, “Why did...” She swallowed thickly, trailing off while shooting a nervous glance at the boy.

“It’s okay Meg.” He reassured, vaulting over the back of the couch to sit facing her.

“If you have questions, ask away. No need to walk on eggshells; that was six years ago.” He held up his hands, almost like a surrender, turning them front and back.

“See? No broken bones. We’re all good.”

She nodded, wringing her hands anxiously.

She forced herself to settle her palms face down on her legs, knowing that nervous habits engrain themselves for years if not corrected.

Still, the martian could barley make eye contact with the young vigilante as she spoke.

“Why were you there? That place... it looked like, well, like a jail.”

The others, save Connor, we moving closer to listen, the hardness of their frames ebbing in the comfort of Robin’s gentle tone. It was backwards.

He was the one who lived that memory.

Not them.

It wasn’t even their nightmare, it was his, and here he was keeping them company. Smiling and giving that it’s okay face that only adults are supposed to know.

As Wally inched forward so his back was pressed up beside where Robin’s legs were folded, he couldn’t help be feel jarred. Mentally, he’d pictured a scene of him later going into Robin’s room and being there to hug him, to help him clear away tears and tremors.

His friend huddled in his room crying over that traumatic memory but once again, Wally had underestimated the presentness of his friend.

“Juvie, actually.” Robin replied easily, snapping the red haired speedster out of his stupor in time to her a gasp from M’gann.

“So the detention centre...” Artemis watched him with sympathetic eyes, having moved to sit a few feet away from him on the same sofa, she was able to see the split second clench and release of his fists.

“Yeah. Guess it was, uh... how’s it called... a trigger? Brought back great memories of my roommates.”

At their mention, anger flashed across the faces of his comrades.

There was a twitch in their hands as suppressed rage leaked through their seal just enough to let him known it was there.

Robin smiled, “I kept in touch with one, actually. Murphy, one with the brown eyes and buzzed hair. He’s come a long way, pretty proud of the guy to be honest.”

He chuckled at the shock ironed onto their faces, earning an indignant, sputtered question from Wally.

“What? Why would you? That guy messed with you. He, dude...You shouldn’t’ve,”

“But I did, and I’m glad I did.“ He replied.

A flurry of questions from all sides berated him in the seconds that remain.

“How do you not hate him?”

“Why were you in Juvie?”

“That boy doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t understand.”

He put a head to his temple, sighing loud enough to halt the chaotic rambling.

“You guys have never really lost something important, have you?”

It wasn’t a question.

They all shook their heads anyway.

They knew what he meant, what went unsaid.

_You’ve never lost someone._

He leaned back, staring at his lap.

A sudden quietness came about the room, not the suffocating kind like before. The kind that taste like ozone and storm clouds.

A calm before the-

“Let me tell you something.”

He paused to swallow back the impending nerves that accompanied the sharing of personal information.

“I won’t say what, because honestly it sucks all around and this has been enough of a downer as it, but I’ve lost a lot. The hardest thing about it is learning that _the world will not weep for you.”_ He blinked a few times, reminding himself briefly to breathe.

It was horribly oversimplified.

The words meant a million more things then just that. People change, grow, improve and deserve second chances.

In the face of losing so so much more, a few bullies are irrelevant, especially bullies who weren’t born this way.

They were made.

By neglect, by abuse, by an unfair system, by blind hate, by tragedy.

They were made in the same way he was.

Into people angry at the world and they had a right to that anger.

Where the difference came is how they handled it.

They never had someone to help them through life, he did.

Okay, now, keep going.

“The second hardest thing is getting all the free ice cream you want.”

Again he smiled at their confusion.

“Rob,” Wally started in near comical disbelief, “how could that possibly be-“

“It makes you realize theres nothing else they can do for you.“

Robin chuckled dryly, pushing back the nostalgia and ghosting pain from years prior. He manages to smile and it feels like the biggest lie he’s ever told, even though the words will be true.

“Ice cream doesn’t make everything okay.”

It still feels like the biggest lie he’s ever told, right up there with I’m fine.

Robin visible holds his breath for six seconds then lets the air rush out in a single huff.

Every syllable felt uncomfortable in his mouth, so they came our raw and rough, a bit more sanding would’ve been nice to polish up his tone so those hints of sorrowful pity didn’t spark in the expressions of his teammates.

Then he waits.

Connor’s eyes have turned from flint to cotton as he stares at the boy wonder whose life apparently hasn’t been all that wonderful.

“Were you scared?”

He asks cautiously, using that voice he reserves for M’gann and wolf, the gentle one that sounds a little tight in the aftershock.

Robin twisted his fingers into the hem of his sweater with a easy smile, “Fuck yeah.”

One hand rose to his face, pushing his shades back up to sit on the bridge of his nose after having slipped down in his quick staring contest with his lap.

“As for why I was there,” he nodded towards M’gann, “I kind of got left behind in Gotham. The social worker assigned to me was... I believe the phrase is ‘terrible at his job’. Couldn’t be bothered with the paperwork I guess.“

Kaldur leaned forward, resting his hands on his legs, “Left behind?”

He watched Robin intently as her ran a hand through his messy dark hair, taking note of how much more interested he seemed to be in the ground.

“That’s what I said.”

Kaldur’s gaze intensified while a concert of nerves built up in in the spectators.

“By what... who?”

“Kaldur,” M’gann interrupted calmly.

“No, it’s fine. I was sort of abandoned.” He said it in an almost confused fashion, chewing at his lower lip as he spoke.

“But not like how you’re thinking.” He added hastily, “It wasn’ intentional. Just... circumstance.“

“How long?”

Wally asked quietly.

“How long what?”

“How long were you there?” Robin cups his face in one hand, eyebrows pinching in concentration.

“Two months, I think.”

“God, Rob,” Wally breathes, screwing his eyes shut so tightly that his forehead creases, trying to ward off flickering thoughts of what else might’ve happened in that window of time.

“Did Batman get you out?”

M’gann asked meekly, rolling her shoulders inwards, making herself smaller under the dull, calm- too calm -gaze of the boy wonder.

“Nah.”

_Wait what?_

Matching quizzical looks were worn on their faces, wrinkled brows and parted lips.

“Hold on,” Artemis held up her hands, “you said you were in juvie. As in jail for kids. In Gotham.”

She pressed two fingers to her temple, staring at him incredulously.

“If he didn’t get you out, then who the hell did?”

He shrugged noncommittally, “I broke out.”

She stared at him incredulously, her face shifting from shock, to pondering, to resigned.

“Yeah... Yeah okay that makes a lot of sense...”

“Somehow.” Connor sighed, meditating for a moment before frowning at Robin.

“Then what?”

“I guess I just... wandered for a while. Two weeks, I think.” He offered a easy smile to Connor, followed by a drawn out “So,”

_Please don’t ask you idi-_

“Where did you go? Two weeks is a long time to just wander, isn’t it? And you were like eight...”

Wally’s mouth was like a gun and his words came in rapid fire, it was nothing new. But this time the bullets hit a little close to home.

Robin flinched at the flurry of questions.

“Great use of tact, Walls, bet your bedside manner is awesome too.”

Robin felt a jab of guilt as Wally shrank back, “Sorry Wally I didn’t-...this is just weird to talk about, to think about...”

he trailed off looking torn between how he should answer.

If he should answer.

“You don’t have to answer.” M’gann assured.

They watched Robin lean back, touching two fingers to his glasses gingerly as though they might break.

Longing and something balanced between regret and happiness was etching onto his face. Somehow even his shaded eyes weren’t immune.

“Brigaki djilia murdarel kham yak.”

The five teens looked at his, curious, hesitant, concerned.

The words sounded like they came from an alphabet too old for humans to speak.

Thick syllables with a rhythm rivalled by only the best of jazz musicians.

His voice slipped into an accent that was obviously second nature. Or maybe first.

It was well worn and easy. And maybe a little sad.

“It’s an old saying of the language...my language. ‘Sorrow songs kill daylight’. It means that if you waste enough time feeling sorry for yourself... hating little things” his lips quirked into a hint of a smile, “the night is gonna come a whole lot faster.”

Artemis was the first to react, moving close enough to bump his shoulder with hers lightly. Just enough to let him know someone was there.

“I get that. I do. But you know you’re allowed to be upset, right?”

She tried to catch his eye in vain.

“You’ve got a right to what you feel.”

He breathed out in a scoff, “Yeah,” he said, sounding a lot more tired then he had just moments before, “I know Arty. But being a victim sucks. You all know that. It sucks.”

They nodded.

“That all I was for years. And it was exhausting, it’s so much better to do something with yourself, you know?”

“Have a purpose... right?” Connor asked, waiting for _that_ reassurance of adult-like maturity the youngest of them somehow had.

Robin nodded, glancing up at the clock sitting sideways (and dented) under the coffee table.

“It’s pretty late, uh, early. Do you guys wanna watch a movie?”

Kaldur smiled, matching the warmth that had grown back into M’gann’s eyes.

“Sounds good to me.”

Wally passed Robin the remote, the rest of them convening closer and closer to him as the clicking of rubber buttons stippled through the air.

He browsed through drama and mystery as a pair of blankets floated into place curtsy of the resident Martian.

Ten minutes later they were all lined up, squished together on one couch with heads on each others shoulders as a title flickered over the screen.

Already, they were half asleep, drowsy from the deprivation and burned out from the dreams, each drifted off at different paces to the gentle score.

Wally had been the first, with Kaldur and M’gann following quickly.

Connor shut his eyes after the seven minute mark, leaving Artemis to study Robin.

The sounds of cinema drama faded around her, leaving a kid using her as a headrest, looking peaceful.

But not yet restful.

“Hey, Robin.” She whispered, tapping a finger on his knee.

“Humm?”

“That thing you said- the proverb -what language was it? You said it was yours.”

She settled her chin atop the crown of his head.

“You never told us- me, you spoke another language. I never knew.”

He tensed for a second, in turn making her think something was wrong.

She had said something wrong.

When he relaxed again with a huff she realized he was only shifting his position, tucking his knees beneath his body like a cat does when they’re cold.

“You never asked...”

He could feel sleep tugging at his mind, blurring the words Artemis was saying.

Throwing them through distortions until it wasn’t words anymore. Just a gentle hum.

“What is it? Those words, I mean. Could you...?”

Through the sides of his tinted glasses, she saw eyelashes brushing cheeks, and saw his breaths come even and measured.

Artemis shook her head.

“Right. Tomorrow then.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN:   
> Okay so maybe I’ve been neglecting my other story (on fanfic.net) in order to write this but it’s been in the back of my head for months.  
> I’ve always thought the way people do nightmares in fics is overdramatized.  
> Most people with PTSD induced nightmares do little more then mumble, let alone scream without waking up...  
> And I’m always surprised that people act like Dick is stuck in the past when that’s not true. He went through tragedy after tragedy but the goodness of his person comes from the fact that none of that can kill him.  
>  It may not to healthy, but he has always been in the now, the present. For him, the moment matters most because grief won’t do much and its wonderfully contradictory since he is an aggressively emotional person he feels acutely all that pain for a hot minute then tries to take a step forward and carry that weight along.  
> ... now that my tangent is out of the way,  
> Please leave and comments, suggestions, compliments or criticisms for me! It means the world to me, really.


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